Episode 801 - Caught In the Middle
by WritePassion
Summary: A mother's love knows no bounds, and sometimes she'll do anything, make any sacrifice, to save her First in the Burn Notice Fictional Season 8
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it._

_Another burning question (pardon the pun!) that I had after watching episode 7.13 Reckoning._

_A mother's love knows no bounds, and sometimes she'll do anything, make any sacrifice, to save her son._

**Caught In the Middle**

By WritePassion

"Mrs. Westen. Mrs. Westen?"

Ruth glared at the speaker, the perky nurses' aide, Delilah, who seemed to work extra hard to dispel the negative connotations of her name. Ruth knew she would never miss her. She felt a tingle of anticipation, knowing that in a little while she would be released from the rehab center. She was clean, sober, and in her right mind. She wouldn't let Nate's death touch her heart anymore. How it had to begin with, well, it must have been an aberration, a side-effect of the self-medicating she'd been doing to deal with every day life.

"Your ride is here," Delilah said.

"Thanks." Ruth let out a breath laden with trepidation, despite her excitement over being free.

Ruth hefted her suitcase and bag, slung her purse over her shoulder, and left the room that served as her prison for the past ninety days. She wouldn't miss the single bed's hard mattress or the lack of privacy. For ninety days, she felt as if she couldn't breathe without someone knowing. Very shortly, she would inhale the sweet air of freedom.

Jackie, her soon to be ex-roommate, lay stomach down on the matching twin bed making a chain from gum wrappers. She was barely seventeen and had already gotten herself into a world of trouble. To combat her addictions, she chewed gum day and night, almost non-stop. That chomping almost drove Ruth to prevent the girl from ever making it to eighteen, but she'd learned the art of restraint. That skill would serve her well in the real world when alcohol tempted her, or the painkillers came into her line of sight.

"Hey, Ruthie, good luck," Jackie said around a large wad of gum. "Hope I never see you again, no offense."

"Yeah, same to you." Ruth left the room and on her way to the exit suffered many more goodbyes, some tearful, others a simple nod of blank faces and jealous eyes. The good wishes stuck in her skin like barbs that irritated her, bringing back the memories of how she wound up in that place.

The cops dragged her there in the middle of the night after Child Protective Services wrenched Charlie away from her crying and screaming for his mama. They had no right to do that to them, and to imprison her in this happy little place hidden away in the Rocky Mountains. The nearest highway was almost five miles away down a long, winding, single lane road. Through the woods, the treacherous footing and steep drops cost some residents, at the very least some privileges, and at the worst, brought them some quality time in the clinic with no painkillers. Torture. It was pure torture what these maniacs did to them. Ruth celebrated inside and couldn't wait until she found Charlie.

The last her lawyer told her was that Charlie had been given to his Grandma Maddie in Florida. She suspected that the people in charge hoped that keeping him as far away as possible aided in her focus on rehabilitation. She cleared every hoop they threw in her way, she beat them at their game, and now she obsessed over finding Charlie.

In therapy, the counselor stressed goals. Ruth's first goal involved getting to Miami, and if that meant breaking into her savings, so be it. She vowed to sacrifice everything to get her son. On the flight she closed her eyes and imagined banging on Madeline Westen's door. When it opened, Ruth stormed inside, found Charlie, and snatched him into her arms and ran out with Maddie screaming behind her. She smiled at such a victory.

But no, she would have to do this legally, or they might question her sanity and return her to rehab. Charlie would forget her because no one would let him visit. The horror of such a thing caused a lump to form in her throat and a soft sob escaped. The man next to her eyed her with suspicion. She ignored him, sighed, and glanced at her watch. Soon she would be on the ground and heading to the law office.

She barged into the reception area of Biddle, Dawson, and Piper still toting her suitcase and travel bag. The receptionist raised an eyebrow but remained professional as she asked, "May I help you, ma'am?"

"My name is Ruth Westen. I need to see Portia Dawson. It's a matter of life or death," Ruth blurted and focused on the woman instead of the reactions of the few seated around the room waiting to see their lawyers.

"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't. Like I said, this is really important. My son's life is at stake." Ruth drummed her nails on the marble countertop.

The receptionist pursed her lips and punched a button. "I'll see what I can do."

"Yes, you do that. A three year old boy is in danger. He needs me, not that washed up, old, chain-smoking, pill-popping hag the state calls a Grandma."

Ruth sat in a chair near the offices and waited, her crossed leg bouncing her foot in the air. Deep down, she wanted a drink so bad, but she had to keep it together until Charlie nestled safely in her arms. Then she would never need another drop, because he would help her keep sober With Nate gone and his crazy ideas of parenting, Ruth had free license to do the right thing. Part of her missed Nate, until she remembered how he coddled Charlie at times and hugged and kissed him so much, Ruth began to wonder about him. Nate always said it was because of his upbringing, and how his father never showed his love to his kids. He went overboard, if you'd ask her. It was almost sick. Nate deserved to be put away, not her.

How the state could ever make such a mistake as to give her son to the woman who screwed up Nate and his big brother Michael, the spy, it was beyond her comprehension. She hoped that when she approached Madeline that Charlie would still be alive. God only knew what sort of health problems he had now from residing in that woman's home where the smoke was thicker than an LA smog, and she ate, horrors of horrors!, meat! The thought wrenched Ruth's stomach. She probably fed Charlie some cucumbers and he had an allergic reaction and died.

Before Ruth's active imagination could race down that road, the door opened and Ms. Prissy Receptionist said, "Ms. Dawson will see you, Mrs. Westen."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Ruth. Mrs. Westen, I mean, Madeline, Charlie's grandmother..." Portia hesitated. "Some men were after her. We don't know why, but a woman led Madeline and Charlie away and blew up the house. Not long afterwards, Madeline was killed in an explosion at another location."

"Charlie? Where is Charlie?" Ruth sniffled, hoping her fears were unfounded.

"It's believed that... that Charlie died in the explosion with Madeline Westen."

"No!" Ruth screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring that it might give her a one-way ticket to a padded cell.

"I'm sorry. The police didn't find his remains, but being a small child and the heat from the fire..."

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Ruth shrieked and the walls shook with agony that brought her to her feet and instantly dropped her to the floor in a sobbing mess. "No, Charlie, my baby! No!"

Strong hands lifted her, and a soft, strange male voice said, "Mrs. Westen, come with us. We'll call someone to come get you."

"No," she exclaimed and wrenched herself away from his perfectly manicured fingers. The self-defense courses she took many years ago came in handy. She turned and backed away from him and Portia, who stood behind and to the side of the strong man. "You're not sending me back there. I won't go." She pointed at them. "I think you're lying to me. I trusted you, Ms. Dawson. You promised Charlie would be safe!"

"Mrs. Westen, I did everything I could," Portia said with sorrow in her voice.

"Lies! Don't worry, I'll find him. I don't believe my baby boy is dead. Someone is keeping him, and I will find him, and I swear that whoever it is, they'll wish they'd never been born. Charlie is my son," Ruth exclaimed through gritted teeth and poked herself in the chest with her index finger, while tears rolled from her eyes and dripped onto her blouse. "He's my son, and no one can take him away."

Ruth turned and fled, leaving everything but her purse behind. She wouldn't need those things anyway. Clothes and personal effects slowed her down. She sensed that she needed to find Charlie fast, and the only way to do that was to start at the house where Madeline lived. To think that Ms. Dawson thought she was so gullible as to believe that story about the house blowing up and the woman dying with Charlie. She would find Madeline at her home and take Charlie exactly as she imagined it. She had one stop to make first. Madeline Westen, her son Michael, and his friends all liked to play with fire. The only way to be victorious involved having to fight fire with fire.

* * *

Ruth stood on the corner and stared at the charred rubble. Other than some masonry and the concrete steps, not much else remained of Madeline Westen's home. She gaped and wondered who could have done this, how could they have destroyed it so quickly? Surely her little side trip to a shady gun store in Overtown didn't afford anyone time to wreak this disaster.

Remnants of yellow police tape fluttered in the wind, tied to trees along the sidewalk. Obviously this had happened awhile ago, and her suspicions were confirmed when she reached out to touch a charred beam. It was cold and disintegrating from the heavy rains. Ruth heard swishing and whirled to see an older woman stepping across the lawn with a sad smile on her face.

"A-are you looking for Madeline?" She stopped and squinted, studying Ruth. She gasped and a hand flew to the space over her heart. "Oh my, it's you! You're Ruth, Madeline's daughter-in-law! I recognize you from the pictures!" Her smile widened and she held out a hand. "My name is Laura. I knew Maddie for almost fifty years. She was such a dear neighbor." Laura sighed and her entire upper body sagged with the effort. "It's simply tragic, isn't it."

"I don't follow you," Ruth said. Here she would finally get answers. Laura looked like a sweet old woman, a busybody type, and surely she would be only too eager to spill all the juicy details.

"Why don't we go to my house? It's just across the street, and I was just going to have some tea when I saw you out here." She sighed again, the heaving sound like a final breath wheezing from her. "At my age, I can't stand in this sun too long."

"Sure." Ruth followed her inside the house.

The living room smelled of ointment and musty old furniture, but she perched herself on the edge of the couch where Laura invited her to sit. She soon found herself holding onto a saucer, dripping honey into her tea, and acting civilized when she really wanted to shake the woman to entice her to get to the point.

"Madeline left here about a month ago. That young woman, Fiona, came in a hurry, took Madeline and Charlie away, and all of a sudden the house went 'boom'! Pieces of it flew into the air and landed on my roof. The Spanish moss caught fire and I was afraid I would lose my own home." Laura tsked and shook her head. "As you can see, nothing happened."

Laura jabbered on, talking about how she hadn't heard from Madeline and didn't know what happened until she saw the newspaper and read about hers and Charlie's deaths. Then Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne also died in a mysterious explosion.

"It was all such a mess," Laura said, and her head swung side to side in a display of pity for her friend and her family. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Westen. I wish I had better news for you about your son."

"Thank you, Mrs..."

"Laura. Call me Laura," the older woman said with a thin smile that trembled out her sadness. "Is there anything I can do to help? If there is, please let me know."

"Thank you, but I think I've taken up too much of your time already," Ruth said, marveling inside with how well she controlled herself. She rose, and Laura escorted her to the door. At the last moment, she turned. "Well, there might be one thing. Do you know the names of Michael's friends?"

"Uh, well, there were those two fellows that spent a lot of time over there. One of them, the tall man, bald he was, uh, his name is Jesse. Yes, Jesse Porter. The other one, the older man with the wild Hawaiian shirts and the scruffy chin... Sam Axe. Yes, that's right." Laura smiled, hoping the information would help Ruth.

"Thank you, Laura. That's all I needed." Ruth grinned. "Thank you. Maybe they can tell me what really happened to Charlie. I'll never believe he died until I can see his remains for myself." She studied Laura through slitted lids. "Have you any children, Laura?"

"Yes, a son who's grown and moved north. Why?"

Ruth nodded and her smile spread across her face. "Then you understand that I won't stop until I know where my son is, and he is in my arms."

"Good luck, Ruth." Laura clasped her hand.

Ruth slid hers away and knew she would have the smell of Ben Gay clinging to her for miles. "Thanks, Laura."

After Laura closed the door, Ruth sauntered to the street, balanced on the curb, and scanned the remains of Madeline's house. The sight shored up her resolve. She would find Charlie, and no one would stop her from taking him. He was hers. He belonged with her. She was the best mother for him, not some stranger.

Ruth reached into the depths of her purse and caressed the semi-automatic inside. Jesse Porter and Sam Axe would tell her the truth, even if she had to make them bleed to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Calypso music played over the speakers at the cantina called Carlito's. Ruth recalled one time that Sam came to Madeline's house while she and Nate were there and he mentioned planning on meeting Mike at the restaurant bar. Sam flew in through the back door and said he had to pick up something, but at the sight of Nate and Ruth, he clammed up on what it was. He seemed like a nice man, yet no doubt he held misconceptions of her because of what Michael told him. Ruth was glad she met Sam, because it made it easier to find him if and when he showed up at Carlito's. She hid behind a menu and a wide brimmed hat in the corner, hoping he would show.

She was about to give up and try to find a cheap motel to stay at when he showed up with a taller bald man. It had to be Jesse. The two joked and laughed as they sat at a table in the center of the place. Of course, they would have to choose a location that was too high profile. She studied them with intent eyes. The death of their friends didn't seem to have affected them too much, which caused a twinge in her gut. How could they be so heartless? Sam was Michael's best friend. Madeline told her that. How could he be so nonchalant only a month after his death? Ruth would have been a wreck if it was her best friend.

A woman joined them at the table and Jesse and Sam got down to business. No more joking. A sense of compassion exuded from them as they listened to her story. Ruth couldn't hear all the words, just enough to know the woman was seeking their help for a problem. She was touched by how Sam placed a gentle hand on her shoulder before she left and promised that they would take care of things. Ruth realized she'd misjudged him, and hoped that he might show the same regard for her and give her what she wanted without a fight. Unable to wait any longer, she dropped the menu and approached the table as soon as the woman was gone.

"H-hello," Ruth said and stuck out her hand. "You're Sam, right? I remember you from Madeline's house."

Sam looked up and in slow motion he stood, lips parted in surprise as he recognized her. "Ruth. Ruth Westen." He turned to Jesse, who also stood, staring at the strange woman. "Jesse Porter, Ruth Westen, Nate's wife, uh, ex-wife, and Charlie's Mom. Ruth, this is Jesse Porter, my friend and business partner."

Ruth nodded at Jesse and smiled as she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Jesse."

"A pleasure, Ruth."

"Hey, why don't you have a seat and tell us what you're doing in Miami?" Sam pulled a chair out for her and she accepted his offer. "I thought you were in..."

"Rehab? Yes, they put me in an adorable little place in the Rockies for ninety days. I was just released," Ruth answered, biting back the words she really wanted to say. "I'm fine now, Sam. So I came here, hoping to reunite with Charlie and get custody of him again."

Sam glanced at the table before his eyes wandered to everywhere but Ruth's face. He stopped on Jesse as if he hoped the other man had the words to tell her what she already knew. But she wouldn't reveal her knowledge. She wanted to hear from Sam's lips what happened. If it didn't make sense or went wildly off course from her information, she would pull out that gun right there and demand he tell her the truth.

"If you swung by Maddie's place, you know it's destroyed," Sam said. "Maddie's dead, and Charlie... I'm sorry, Ruth. He's gone."

"What do you mean, he's gone," Ruth asked, tempering her instinctive reaction to raise her voice. Instead, she leaned forward and one hand dipped into her purse under the table. She sensed Jesse watching her, but she didn't care. Sam would pay for his lies if she sensed that he was deceiving her.

"Hey, relax, he's not dead," Sam assured her with a tender hand on her arm.

Ruth wanted to pull away, but she detected his care and concern, exactly what she hoped to get from him along with answers. Her throat constricted and she blinked as the world grew misty. "Where is he, Sam? Where's my Charlie? And who is he with? Some strangers?"

Sam leaned closer and spoke soft, and Ruth had no choice but to bend toward him to hear. "Charlie is alive and well, and he's with... he's with Mike and Fiona."

"You're certain? They're really alive?" She fought to contain her excitement. This was going to be easier than she thought. Why did she think this man would withhold information from her? He was a nice guy, and by the look of earnestness on his face, she knew she could trust him.

Sam nodded and smiled. "He's in good hands, Ruth." Then his expression changed to one of sadness. "Unfortunately, I can't tell you where they are. Not even Jesse and I know that. Mike sent me a cryptic text before the funeral, saying he and Fi were taking Charlie someplace safe, and they would raise him."

"But they can't do that. I'm his mother. I will raise him." Ruth sat back in her chair as his words set her off balance. She grasped her arms at the elbows and rubbed them as if a cold breeze had come through the awning covered cafe. "He's my son. Charlie should be with me."

"I'm sorry, Ruth. We didn't know how long you would be in rehab, and the state worked so fast to give Maddie permanent custody, that we thought..."

"They did? Without my consent? How dare they!" Her voice scratched the air and she stood so fast, her chair teetered and fell. People stared, but she had no idea of the scene she was making. "Who allowed this? I have to see them. They need to be set straight, and I have to get Charlie back, wherever they're hiding him. Please, I'm his mother! He belongs with me!"

Sam rose and took the sobbing Ruth into his arms. "Jesse?"

Jesse sighed. "Yeah, I'll get the check."

It was the third time that week that he picked up the tab. "I'll get you next time, I promise. Right now, I think we need to get Ruth somewhere quiet. I'll take her to the hotel."

"Sure. And I'll get started on our new case, unless you need help."

"No, I'm good. Thanks." Sam turned Ruth and steered her out of Carlito's and away from curious eyes. He pressed her close to his side and rubbed her upper arm with one hand while he dug into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "Here. I think you need this."

Ruth sniffled and accepted it. "Thank you, Sam. You're being so nice. I... I wasn't expecting that."

"I understand. You came here thinking everyone would be against you," Sam said. "I promise, I'll do what I can to help."

Unfortunately, at the moment the only thing he could do was comfort her. He knew so little about Ruth other than what Mike and Maddie had told him, and none of it was very flattering. Nate loved her, so she couldn't have been all bad. Her love for Charlie moved him, and it broke his heart at the same time. Until Mike and Fi poked their heads up from their hiding place, Sam would never be hard pressed to find Charlie.

He turned her toward the entrance to Elsa's hotel. "Here we are."

"You live here?" Ruth craned her neck to see the towering facade stretch to the blue sky.

"It's my girlfriend's place. We share the penthouse," Sam explained. He took her by the elbow and led her inside. At this point, it was probably safer to keep her at some distance, rather than risk Elsa seeing them and getting the wrong impression.

He couldn't have planned it any worse. As Sam walked across the lobby with Ruth, who with mouth slightly agape let her eyes roam from the luxurious, plush area carpets to the designer furniture, up to the sparkling crystal fixtures overhead, Elsa came from her office down a short hallway and spotted him.

"Sam! Wait!" She hurried on her stilettos to stop beside him and Ruth at the elevators. She tilted her head to the side to study Ruth. "Sam, who is she and where are you taking her?"

"Elsa, sweetheart, this is Nate's ex, Ruth. Ruth, Elsa, my girlfriend."

Ruth put on an enthusiastic grin and shook her hand. "My, what an amazing hotel you have here, Elsa. It's simply… amazing, like being in Vegas, only classier."

"Thank you." She turned her attention to Sam. "What's going on?"

The elevator dinged, signaling that the car had arrived. The doors opened and disgorged its passengers, and Sam pulled Ruth into the empty car. Elsa followed. On a normal day, being sandwiched between two women would be a fantasy come true, but in this case, it was anything but. Yet he knew he had nothing to hide, and on the way to the penthouse, Sam explained the reason Ruth was in town. He played on Elsa's emotions as a mother, shamelessly using her sympathies to soften her so that by the time the elevator opened on the penthouse lobby, Elsa was inviting Ruth to stay with them as long as she needed until Charlie was back in her custody. Sam groaned inside. Elsa had no idea what she was saying.

* * *

As the sun set on another perfect day, Fiona Glenanne stood at the garden gate and watched Charlie run through the snowy field alongside the property, arms raised, giggling as he pretended to be an airplane. She laughed under her breath, happy to see him adjusting at last. During the first couple of weeks after their arrival Charlie seemed to close himself off and rarely spoke, to the point that Fiona badgered Michael that they needed to do something.

She had never been a mother and was inexperienced in the ways of a three-year-old child, but her instincts, which always served her well, told her that something wasn't right. Michael was even less help, and half the time he seemed afraid that anything he would do in his interactions with the boy might cause him to blow up like a chunk of C4. Together, they learned about Charlie and his idiosyncrasies, Michael lost the terrified look when dealing with Charlie, and Fiona felt an inkling of what it meant to be a real mother.

"Charlie, 'tis time to eat dinner," Fiona called to him.

He stopped, turned, and grinned at her. "I'm flyin'. Didja see? I'm flyin' to go to Gramma."

Fiona swallowed a lump before answering. "Ye got a long way to fly to see Gramma Madeline."

Charlie trotted to the gate and Fiona opened it for him. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and asked, "Is she gonna come here and live with us?"

"No, sweetheart." Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow again before speaking. "Gramma Madeline is in heaven with the angels."

"Oh." Charlie pouted. "Wanna be an angel." He stomped past her and followed the stepping stones to the front door.

Fiona sighed. He was too young to understand. Some day they would tell him the story of how and why they wound up an ocean away from his home, but for now all they could do was weather one bump after another.

"Sister!"

Fiona turned from the path and scanned the road, and the gloom in her spirit dissipated at the sight of Sean, her brother, riding toward her on a bicycle. She met him at the gate.

"Aye, Sean, what brings ye here?"

"I brought ye a few things from the market," Sean answered with a crooked smile. "And I'm checkin' up on ye. I keep worryin' that someone's gonna figure out you and Michael are here, and you'll be runnin' again."

"Everyone in the family has been keeping quiet?"

"Aye."

"Good. Then there's no reason to worry." She took a sack made of netting from him that held a variety of foodstuffs. "Thank ye for the supplies. Why don't ye make yourself at home and join us for supper?"

"Twould be an honor," Sean said with a grin. He brought his bicycle up the path and around to the back of the house so that no one traveling along the road would see it. Everyone who knew him knew his casual transportation, and he didn't need a stupid mistake like leaving it out to give away his sister's location. Fiona led him through the back door. Charlie was seated at the table and Michael carried a platter and a bowl to the table.

"Hi, Sean," Michael greeted him. He didn't even pretend to be Irish around Fiona's brother, not since he knew the truth that Michael was an American. "Anything new with the family?"

"I'd like to talk to ye about that after supper, after the wee one is in bed," Sean said, causing Michael and Fiona to glance at each other with puzzlement.

Sean ate heartily and kept them up to date on the news in town and with the family. Innocent things that were safe for a child's ears. After Fiona tucked Charlie into bed and told him a short bedtime story to send him off to dreamland, she returned to the living area and sat with the men by the fire to hear what Sean had to say.

"Mum's been askin' about ye two," Sean said. He decided not to beat around the bush, but his cheeks flushed a bit when he asked, "She wants to know, when are ye two gonna get married? 'Tis a sin for ye to be livin' together this way, and with the wee one, what kind of example is that?"

Neither Fiona nor Michael could give him an answer. Fiona glanced at Michael expecting him to come up with an excuse or some line, but he was too busy looking like a freight train was barreling down on him and he couldn't escape.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Several days had gone by and Ruth was getting impatient and antsy, and with his schedule so full, Sam had never been more grateful for Elsa and her assistance. She not only helped Ruth with clothes and necessities, Elsa spent some time talking with her, mother to mother, to attempt to ease her anxiety. That morning, Sam expressed his appreciation for her willingness to get so deep into this case. Elsa's response still rang in his ears.

"Sam, she's like a powder keg. If she doesn't get results soon, I'm afraid she's going to strike out on her own and try to find Charlie." She looked into his eyes with worry flooding hers. "She's not stable. You know she left everything she took with her from rehab at her lawyer's office after they bullied her into getting upset. That's what she says, anyway, but I'm not so sure I got the whole story."

Ruth told Elsa everything, and after hearing the story, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. One thing was for sure. He needed to get the other side before he made any decisions. What he heard planted a lump of doubt inside him, and he regretted bringing Ruth to the hotel. Sam stepped onto the pool deck and squinted behind his sunglasses, surveying the area. Ruth was supposed to be out there somewhere. He spotted her along the side of the pool, midway between the shallow and deep ends, sunning herself.

She looked innocent enough, but Sam noted that her eyes pinpointed the bar. For someone with an alcohol problem, the last place she should be is fifty feet from a tiki bar, but there she was. She licked her lips watching the people gathered nearby enjoying the colorful slushy drinks. Refreshing on a hot day, but for someone in Ruth's position, the drinks posed a threat, a trap that would entice her with sweetness and leave her back on the road toward brokenness. Sam sighed and wished he had better news to bring her.

Spending time at the pool within sight of the bar was crazy, but Ruth saw it as a battle of wills. She owed it to Charlie to stay sober. She wouldn't let him down. With his daddy gone, she needed to be the mother she should have been before, and once he was in her arms she would never let him go. If he survived living with Michael and Fiona, that is. Every day she pondered the arrangement and worried that they were living in some third world country full of disease and bad food and water, while Michael took out terrorists and all sorts of bad guys. Charlie could be in grave danger and she would never know until it was too late.

Sam assured Ruth that wherever they were, Charlie was safe. How could he know? She wanted to believe him, but without real evidence, all she could do was worry. If Sam didn't come up with a clue soon, Ruth would go out into the streets of Miami herself and look everywhere. It might take a lifetime, but she would find her son alone if no one was willing to help.

Sam's shadow fell across Ruth and she shaded her eyes as she looked up at him. His wide shoulders blocked most of the glare until he moved and sat on the chaise next to hers. "Hey, Ruth. You're looking a lot better than when you showed up here." He smiled. "The Florida sun does wonders."

She was too distracted by thoughts of her son to care. "Yes, thanks. What have you found out about Charlie?"

Sam bit his bottom lip and folded his hands between his spread knees before answering. "I, uh, talked to some buddies of mine. I had them looking into flights overseas, hoping they'd find a sign of three people on a clandestine journey. So far, they've got nothing."

Ruth slumped in her chaise. "So, now what? You can't just give up! These are your friends, and my son. I can't believe you didn't want to try to find them before."

"Ruth." Sam reached out and circled her thin forearm with his large hand as he tried to look into the eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. "You've got to understand. I know Mike and Fi. I don't have to worry about where they are, because I know they'll dig in and find a safe place. With Charlie in tow, they'll be even more likely to look for a suitable location."

"That's all fine and dandy, but when were they planning on bringing Charlie back to me?"

Sam hesitated. He couldn't answer that question, because anything he said would only agitate her more.

But Ruth was smarter than he gave her credit for, and she yanked the sunglasses off as she sat up straight, dropped her legs off the side of the chaise and stared at him. "You think they were planning on keeping him. Why?"

"You were in rehab, Ruth."

"But it wasn't for the rest of my life! I was coming back and I needed my son." She sniffled. "Sam, how could they not think about that?"

"At the time, we were all pretty much running for our lives. I told you how Jesse and I wound up in CIA custody, and they were prepared to keep us for the rest of our lives," Sam replied, tension rising in his voice. "If we hadn't made them happy with the intel we gave them, Jesse and I would still be in there, and we wouldn't be having this conversation." Ruth said nothing, so Sam added, "I understand how you're feeling, Ruth, but it's just going to take some time. And I have some good government resources to help me out."

"I have to find him."

"Not without help, and I'm working as fast as I can here. Trust me." He took her hands in his and squeezed them. "I know it's not easy to wait, but..." Sam's phone rang, and a hope-filled smile crossed his face. "I think that might be an answer now. Hang on, I'll be right back."

Sam walked away, giving Ruth a clear view of the bar. A few people stood around laughing and sipping on colorful fruity drinks. Would just one really be so bad? It might help calm her anxiety. Echoes of her counselor's lectures rang in her head, reminding her how easy it was to fool herself into believing she could drink again without consequences. Her nerves had other ideas, and so she wrestled with herself, not paying attention to Sam on the phone.

"Okay, thanks." Sam closed the connection and returned to Ruth with a slight smile. "Hey, Ruth, that was one of my buddies in Homeland Security. He was checking into some manifests for another case, and he came up with something odd. I'm going to go down to his office and see what he's got. You stay here, hang tight, and pray it's a lead that'll help us find Mike, Fi, and Charlie."

Ruth smiled through her pain. "Thank you, Sam."

"You're welcome. As much as I love Mike and Fi, Charlie is your son. He belongs with you."

Her smile widened and on impulse she jumped forward and hugged him. "Sam, you're just so amazing. Thank you. I don't know if I'll be able to pay you for all you're doing, but..."

"Don't worry about it."

She squeaked and squeezed him tight again. "This is so amazing! I can hardly wait until Charlie is home."

Sam disengaged himself from her and patted her shoulder. "Don't get your hopes high too fast. It could take awhile yet."

"I know. But there's hope." Ruth grinned.

"Yes, there is. Well, I gotta go. I'll let you know what I find." Sam turned away and strode across the pool deck toward the parking garage, even more concerned about her quick emotional swings. He glanced at the bar and wished he could get Ruth away from it, but she was an adult and had to make her own choices. If she made the wrong one, all this work looking for Charlie would be in vain.

Ruth watched him leave, the giddiness inside threatening to take her over and make her lose control. She needed to do something to calm herself, but she couldn't help feeling the need to celebrate because they had taken one small step toward finding Charlie.

Yes, one little fruity drink wouldn't hurt. It was more sugar than alcohol anyway. Everybody knew that. Ruth was confident she could handle herself and stop at one. She crossed to the bar, ordered a slushy punch like thing in a hurricane glass, and after a few sips, she sighed in happiness. Everything was coming together perfectly.

* * *

Ruth was getting too hopeful. Sam knew it when he left her, but he was helpless to do anything about it. Coming back with something encouraging would at least legitimize her excitement. He couldn't even begin to understand what it must be like for her, since he was a man, without kids, with only a nuclear family in his past from which he could draw his experiences. Not that his mom and dad always got along, but at least they stayed married until death parted them, despite his father's wandering eye. Sometimes he thought his mother had to be a saint for all the times she'd forgiven his dad. It was from her that he inherited the ability to absolve a lot of wrongs and to look at things from another angle.

At the moment, all he could see was a mother who loved her son and would do anything to retrieve him. It reminded him of Madeline and how she sacrificed her life to save them all. That he could understand, even though he wasn't a mother. A small part of him questioned whether it was wise to return Charlie to Ruth. Just out of rehab, emotional and vulnerable, she could backslide easily. He'd seen it before with friends who gave up the bottle or some other drug of choice, but the moment they returned to the environment of their old life, they went back to their addiction. He didn't know Ruth well enough to gauge her strength to fight temptation.

"Jesse. It's me, Sam. How are things going with that case?"

"I've got a lead, and I'll probably have it wrapped up in a day or so. Why? You need help with something?"

"I'm concerned about Ruth. She's taking this hard and expecting quick results. I'm going to see a buddy at Homeland Security, but I'm not sure what kind of lead, if any, he has for me. Hopefully something that'll ease her mind."

Jesse asked, "What can I do?"

"Maybe keep an eye on Ruth?" Sam replied as he parked in a space in front of the plain office building where his friend worked. "She's at the hotel right now, sunning herself poolside. I'm hoping she stays there and doesn't try to take matters into her own hands, you know?"

"Roger that. I'll get over there as soon as I finish up a little something."

'Thanks, Jesse." Sam hoped he would feel better after getting Ruth a babysitter of sorts. His visit to his friend's office would hopefully give him more encouragement.

Sam found an empty space next to his friend's car. Douglas Duggan, a.k.a. Digger to his friends, was an old SEAL buddy of Sam's. After he retired, thanks to a bullet that did serious damage to his hip, Digger used his clearance to leverage a job at Homeland Security. For a government worker, he was making some big money, if the candy apple red Mustang with all the goodies and the vanity plate that read DIGG IT was any indication.

"Sammy, you're right on time," Digger exclaimed with a wide grin as Sam entered the reception area. Digger hobbled to him, holding out his hand, but when Sam went to grab it, he snatched him into a bear hug.

"Oof, Digger, you still got it, man," Sam said as he disengaged himself from his friend. "You've been working out."

"Yeah, I don't let a bum hip stop me, Sammy, contrary to what the Navy thought, I'm as good or better than I was before." He flapped a hand in dismissal. "Ah, never mind. I've got too much to do before I'm eatin' dirt. Don't need to be fretting about the past, right?" He turned Sam toward an office door that stood open to the left of the reception desk where a girl barely out of high school sat and fielded phone calls. "Anyway, I think I've got something that's gonna make you happy."

Sam dropped onto a black vinyl padded stool that joined two others around a large circular table that looked more like something from a bar than an office. Papers littered the surface and a tablet pc and cell phone acted like paperweights to keep everything in some kind of order. Digger stood with his butt half on a stool and one foot on the support rung. He shifted stark white sheafs around until he found what he sought.

"Here we go, this is it, the data on flights around three weeks ago."

"My friends have been gone longer than that. Jesse and I were kept a few weeks at the CIA HQ, so it's probably closer to a month and a half since they've been gone." Even so, Sam's eyes scanned the information. "This makes absolutely no sense to me, Digg. What am I looking for?"

"After we talked about what happened, I had a theory," Digger responded and bounced a little on his seat. He picked up a highlighter and slashed the pages with long lines over some of the data. "You said your friend Fiona was from Ireland, so I did some checking on flights going there and to Europe."

Sam blanched. "But if Mike and Fi go to Ireland, someone will find them and kill them. Fi's got a hit hanging over her head."

"Yeah, but from what you told me about your friends, I had one of those feelings about it. Ireland probably symbolizes some kind of stability for her and a chance to reconnect with family, and your buddy Mike probably wants to give her that after the past tumultuous seven years."

Sam hadn't told his friend much about what he'd been up to, but no doubt Digger was privy to details about the team and their activities, thanks to his job. In essence, he knew more about them than anyone who wasn't family.

"So you're sure that Mike and Fi are in Ireland," Sam said as he shook his head. "What proof do you have?"

"I knew you'd ask that." Digger grinned, and like a poker player showing his hand, he fanned out three sheets of paper onto the surface. "Copies of the passports they used. My guess is they lay low somewhere in the States and had the IDs made, then took off. But they split up." He pointed to a yellow streak. "This manifest shows a Maggie and Charles McBride boarded a flight to Belfast from New York City." Tapping another bright yellow slash, he added, "Michael McBride traveled alone from Denver."

"Denver? Are you sure this is the right guy?" Sam stared at Michael's passport photo. It was him alright, with a subtle smirk on his lips.

"All the computer scans match up. Not sure what he was doing in Denver first," Digger answered. "Maybe coming up with a plan for bringing his new little family back to the States? Plenty of open land in Colorado where they could disappear."

"Ruth," Sam muttered.

"What was that, Sammy? My body might still be in good shape, but my hearing ain't so good. Too many percussion grenades, I think." He snickered.

"Don't worry, it's nothing. I just have an idea why Mike went to Denver." He scooped up the papers into a pile. "This is a big help, Digg. Can I take these?"

"Sure, knock yourself out. If you need anything else, let me know."

"If you can find out when Michael McBride went to Denver and what he did there, that would be great," Sam said.

"Oh yeah, no problem." Digger smirked. "You're asking a lot here, Sammy."

"Sorry, but I have an idea why he was there, and I want to see if I'm right." Sam took the empty manila file folder that Digger handed him and slipped the sheets inside. "I owe you a couple mojitos, at least, for this intel."

"With a six pac and you've got a deal, pal. I'll let you know when I intend to collect." Digger grinned.

Sam left Digger's office with a head full of ideas and things to do. He decided to call Barry Burkowski, the money launderer who had become a friend of the team. If Mike and Fi were flying all over the place with fake IDs, they had to get the funds from somewhere.

"Sam, how's it going," Barry said when he answered his phone.

"Where are you, Barry? Can you talk?"

"Sure. I'm tucked in a corner at my favorite Cuban coffee shop, doing business. Why, what's up?" He slurped his coffee.

"Did you pull money for Mike and Fi to travel?"

A soft intake of breath told Sam he was on the right track. Barry quickly recovered and said, "I'm not sure what you mean, Sam. They're, uh, dead, right?" He hesitated. "You're not trying to accuse me of hacking into Mike's account to siphon off some money, now, are you?"

"Oh come on, Barry! You know I'd never do that," Sam fired back. "However, I know you would help Mike and Fi get their hands on some money, and if Mike told you to keep quiet, you would do exactly what he asked. You did, didn't you."

"Sam..."

"Never mind, Barry. I already know that they're alive. I probably knew before you did. Those caskets at the funeral were empty, weighed down with sandbags so the pallbearers wouldn't know and give up the ruse."

Barry sucked in a breath. "And you didn't tell me? Sam! I thought we were buddies! I mean, we cheated death together, wedged underneath an overturned cast iron bathtub! I thought that meant something!"

"Yeah, like you didn't tell me about Mike coming to you for money. Thanks a lot, pal."

"Okay, you've got a point."

Sam's phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. "Jesse's trying to get through. Tell you what, I'll call you later and you and I are gonna have a little chat about this. And I promise I won't rip your head off."

"Gee, thanks." Barry cut off the call with a quick, "Talk to you later, Sam."

Sam engaged the call with Jesse. "Jess, what's up?"

"Sam, you better get over to the hotel. Looks like Ruth fell off the twelve-step beam."

"Aw, crap," Sam muttered. Aloud, he said, "I'm on my way, Jesse. See you in about ten minutes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A small skirmish on the pool deck brought two security guards running from inside the hotel. With this being a high-class, respectable establishment, the two weren't the stereotypical fat, bumbling rent-a-cops in bad fitting uniforms. Wearing dark suits and sunglasses, they approached the wrangling couple and stopped before them, their physiques nearly popping seams when each took a threatening stance.

"Sir, ma'am, is there something wrong," the one with closely cropped blonde hair asked.

Jesse glanced at the two while he tightened his grip on Ruth. She'd stopped screaming at him at least. He could tell by her diminished flailing that she was just about done fighting too. He grinned at them and replied, "Thanks, fellas, but I can handle this."

"Sir, we should really take this inside, away from the other guests," the dark haired one said.

"You know, that's not a half bad idea," Jesse responded. His arms were still wrapped around Ruth, who had her back to him. When the security men arrived, she'd been trying to flip him over her back, but not only was he a lot larger and heavier, she was seriously intoxicated and had little coordination or balance for such an effort. "You guys gotta understand, Mrs. Westen has been through some very... trying... times lately." He squeezed harder and the last of Ruth's fight left her. Addressing Ruth, he said, "Come on, let's go inside."

"I... I don't wanna go inside. I don't wanna do anything," Ruth mumbled in protest. "I just wanna wake up and have this nightmare over. Get it? Somebody just wake me up!"

The guards shook their heads and moved forward to take Ruth's arms and pry her from Jesse. He kept a hand on her back. She shrugged them all off, swept her hands down her arms as if whisking away water after taking a swim, and she backed away from them.

"I'm fine. I'm not a baby, I can walk."

Ruth walked, although not in a very straight pattern. The little group was almost to the pool deck doors when Sam pushed through and took in the sight. "What happened? Jesse? I was only gone, what, not even an hour, and she can barely stand up? What the hell?"

"I can stand just fine," Ruth slurred and raised an arm, shaky but seeking it's mark in slow motion as she poked him in the chest. "Just had one, or two. That's all."

"Who served her," Sam asked the guards. His laser stare bored into both of them as he waited for an answer. "Come on, Ray, Glenn. I need to know."

Ray, the blonde, answered. "Marty's on deck as the bartender, Mr. Axe, so I would guess he did it."

Sam set his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment. Marty was always a little loose with the alcohol. As a matter of fact, sometimes Sam himself enjoyed that benefit, but when it came to a recovering alcoholic ordering drinks, it was a liability. He counted to ten in his head and focused. It wasn't Marty's fault. Ruth didn't have 'addict' tattooed to her forehead, so how was he to know other than some hotel gossip among the staff, which wasn't exactly reliable at all times.

"Okay guys, get her up to her room. I'll have a little talk with Marty, and after Ruth has sobered up..." He released a sigh. "We'll deal with it then."

"Yes Sir, Mr. Axe." Ray and Glenn accompanied Ruth to her room.

Sam watched her wobble toward the elevators and the two men flanked her, holding onto her by the elbows. He shook his head and asked, "How did this get so whacked, Jesse? I was really hoping she'd hold out, but when I left, she was way too happy and excited about this latest development. I should have known."

"No, don't put this on your shoulders, Sam. She's a big girl, and Ruth has to make her own decisions, good or bad," Jesse said. "Let's go have a little chat with Marty, and then we'll let Ruth sleep it off. Meanwhile, you can tell me what you got."

It was Elsa's hotel and she took control of a lot of things, including the hiring and firing of staff. Yet Sam had autonomy to correct any issues that arose that she had no idea occurred. He reamed Marty for over-dispensing and warned him if it happened again, he was gone. Marty didn't know what hit him. Mr. Axe was usually such a nice, easy-going guy. Everybody on the staff liked him because he treated them like friends, not hired help, and he respected them. Sam often complimented Marty on his work. Not today. How was he to know the lady was a lush? Worried about keeping his job, Marty would be careful from now on, and just for spite, maybe he'd short Mr. Axe's mojitos for awhile and see how he liked it.

Sam and Jesse walked away and went inside the hotel, heading for the elevator to take them to the penthouse. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Elsa coming his way, her hands formed into tight fists swinging at her sides as she took each step.

"Hi, honey," Sam said as he smiled at her.

She wore the 'don't "hi honey" me' look. "Sam, what happened with Ruth? I heard from one of the cabana boys what was going on out there."

"It's okay, everything's under control now," he assured her. "Ruth, well, she fell off the wagon, plain and simple. We'll help her through this, Elsa."

"You're damn right we will," Elsa exclaimed, to his surprise, as she planted a fist on her hip. "This woman needs to straighten out if she ever hopes to get her son back." Her eyes met Sam's, sadness in them. "I can't imagine what she must be going through to think alcohol is the answer. If someone had done this to me and taken Evan, I would have been mad enough to knock some heads."

Sam and Jesse took an unconscious step back from her. Jesse said, "Don't worry, Elsa. We'll do everything we can to help her. I mean, that's the whole point of finding Mike and Fi, right?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Not that we wouldn't like to know where they are, but if it weren't for Ruth, we wouldn't be trying to find them, because our search is risking exposing them. If the wrong people find out where they are, it could be disastrous for not just Mike and Fi, but Charlie too."

"I know. Just be careful, Sam." She eyed Jesse. "You too. If something happened to Charlie, a few drinks would be nothing compared to what she might do."

"What do you mean by that," Jesse asked, eying her with suspicion.

"Ruth and I have had some opportunities to talk," Elsa replied. "I assured her I would keep our discussions confidential..." She looked around, debating whether to share what she'd learned.

"Elsa, it's important," Sam goaded her. "We need to know what we're up against if we have any hope of helping her."

Elsa let out a long sigh. "Let's go to my office."

It was worse than Sam and Jesse feared, and as soon as Elsa told them that Ruth had been using tranquilizers and pain pills besides alcohol before she went into rehab, the two raced out of Elsa's office and up to Ruth's room. Sam used his passkey to get inside. Ruth lay on the bed, out cold. He reached for her wrist to check her pulse and watched her breathe.

"Looks normal to me," Jesse muttered. He got close to Ruth's ear and spoke. "Ruth, can you hear me? Wake up. Come on, girl, wake up."

Ruth mumbled, rolled to her side and her arm flailed and swatted at the air. "Leave me alone," she emoted. "Wanna sleep."

"Ruth, did you take anything," Sam asked.

"Mmm, no." A snore came from her, and she was asleep again.

Sam jumped up from where he knelt beside the bed and slipped around the corner into the bathroom. The vanity was clear except for a toothbrush and some personal care products. The drawers were empty. He pulled out each one and checked the undersides. With each one he grew more frantic in his efforts, afraid she had hidden something so well they would never find it until it was too late.

"I checked the dresser, nightstand, and the garbage. Looks like the cleaning crew has already been in here today," Jesse said. "If she was using something, she must have thrown the bottle away this morning."

"No, I don't think she took anything but alcohol," Sam said, satisfied that there was nothing dangerous in the bathroom. "Wait a second. Where's her purse?"

Jesse found it in a drawer in the bedroom and without hesitation tipped it and dumped the contents onto the mattress of the spare bed. An amber bottle stuck out from the usual woman's junk, and he snatched it up and his eyes scanned the words.

"What is it," Sam asked.

"Looks like aspirin." Jesse opened the bottle and sniffed. "Yeah, it's aspirin. We're worried about nothing, unless like I said she took something and threw away the bottle earlier."

Sam shook his head. "I doubt it. When I talked to her before I left to see Digger, she seemed perfectly clear headed to me."

"We should keep an eye on her anyway."

"Damn, I wish we had Fi here. Even Maddie would be good, although she and Maddie never got along from what I understand," Sam said. "I hate to ask Elsa."

"But Elsa seems to have some rapport with her," Jesse said.

"I have a better idea. I'll be right back."

Sam soon returned with a small video camera and mounted it on the wall where it would pick up Ruth's movements. It was wireless, and Sam could monitor it from his phone. With the electronic babysitter, the men could in confidence leave her alone and get to business.

Sam set the file on the dining table along with a a couple of sodas. He would have asked if Jesse wanted a beer, but considering the circumstances of what they'd just dealt with, Sam opted for something with far less kick.

Jesse took a seat. "So, what have we got?"

"It seems pretty certain that Mike, Fi, and Charlie are in Ireland."

"Well, that narrows things down a bit." Jesse smirked.

"Yeah. Even more interesting is that they split up. Fi and Charlie went over first, and Mike flew out of Denver a few days later, but the destinations were the same. Belfast." Sam pulled the report that his buddy created. "I think before we go looking for them, we should figure out why Mike was in Denver."

"The rehab center that Ruth went to..."

Sam nodded. "I'm taking a leap here and thinking it was near Denver."

Jesse sat back in his chair and studied the intel. "You don't think he went to visit Ruth there, do you? And if he did, why would he?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. We're sure not gonna get that information from Ruth at the moment." He took a sip of his soda. "Oh, and I almost forgot. I called Barry on my way back here. Mike contacted him before the funeral and asked him to get into Mike's secret bank account and transfer a large sum of money into an account in Belfast. Barry was afraid to tell me because Mike told him not to let anyone know."

"What did he say when he found out we already knew they were alive?"

"He was a little upset, but it's okay. He understands the secrecy." Sam shifted some of the other papers. "This is all the evidence we have that our friends went to Ireland. I'm really reluctant to pursue it. Especially now." He looked up and met Jesse's puzzled expression, and he leaned closer to speak so Ruth couldn't hear him. "A kid should be with his mom, but Jess, I think Charlie is safer with Mike and Fi right now than with Ruth. I wanted to believe that wasn't the case, but after today, I'm not so sure."

Jesse nodded, glanced at the papers, and returned his gaze to lock on Sam. "Before your goon squad showed up, I was trying to calm Ruth down. I don't know what set her off, other than being drunk, but she was mad. Hysterical mad, even. She's a little thing, but she had strength, and it was all I could do to restrain her until security arrived."

"Like Elsa said, she's a powder keg," Sam said. "Guess we have to find out why, on top of everything else." He released a breath that shuddered in the stillness. "How's our paying gig going?"

"I'll have that wrapped up this afternoon. It's going better than I expected."

"Good. At least something is going right." Sam pushed the papers into a neat pile and stuffed them into the folder. "I'll go ahead and see what I can find out about Mike in Denver, and I'll locate the rehab center. I'm thinking I might have to go out there and see what's up. Wanna come with?"

"Can we do it tomorrow? I'll be done with our case by then."

"Sure. It'll give me time to file a flight plan. We'll take the Gulfstream."

Jesse grinned. "So you're up to flying jets now, huh?"

"Oh yeah. It's a lot more fun than those prop jobs."

Sam and Jesse rose, and Sam escorted him to the door. As soon as he was gone, Sam burned up the phone lines checking the leads that Digger had given him. Things were looking promising. Michael Westen had visited Denver as Michael McBride, but without the accent. By the end of the day, Sam had the name of the hotel where he stayed, but his activities were still a mystery. As he set the phone in its cradle, Sam shook his head. He'd never had to hunt down his best friend before, not like this.

* * *

Living in Ireland had its risks, but Michael decided that it was worth it when he saw how settling in affected Fiona. It was like the old days. She was in her homeland and feeling as if she'd put on her favorite old sweater against the chill of the world. Michael was happy for her, but inside, he hid his sadness. When the three visited her family after being there several weeks, he watched Fiona interact with her brothers and mother, who never failed to give Michael a disapproving stare every time their eyes met, and he felt uncomfortable. He imagined himself outside in the cold blustery wind looking through the old multi-paned windows at the warmth and happiness that everyone shared inside.

There was only one solution to that problem, at least a partial solution. Michael needed to marry Fiona. Not only would it make her mother happy, perhaps he would feel more like he was settling down into a comfortable life. Coping with the loss of not only his family and friends, but also the life that he ate, drank, breathed, and loved, turned into a trial for him. Being a spy was who Michael Westen was, and he wasted seven years trying to hold onto his identity. In the end he lost almost everything he loved, and after cheating death one more time, enough was enough.

They had money, thanks to Barry transferring funds to a secret account. Yet at some point he would have to get a job. At the moment, he had no idea what he would do and that realization compounded the feelings of uselessness and disorientation.

So deep in thought, Michael let out a startled breath when Shannon, Fiona's niece, jumped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Uncle Michael," she said and bounced a little to get his attention. As if the first leap hadn't been enough.

Michael recovered his breath and asked, "Yes?"

"Are you gonna ask Aunt Fiona to marry ye soon? If ye wanna make it an April weddin', ye don't have much time." Shannon smiled at him with an innocent light in her eyes, but Michael suspected that someone put her up to asking.

"Well, I was thinkin' about it," he replied and glanced around the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to their conversation. "I just have to get a ring for Aunt Fiona."

"I have one," Shannon whispered as she pulled her hand out from under the folds of her dress. "See?" The claddagh ring was too loose for Shannon's eight year old finger, so she pressed her digits close together to prevent it from slipping.

"Where'd you get that," Michael asked as he took Shannon's hand and she let him pull it off. He tested the weight in his hand and determined that the metal was probably something cheap. If he was going to propose to Fiona, he better have something better than this. With a smile he handed the ring back to Shannon.

"Ye don't like it?"

"It's good for pretendin', but I wanna get Fiona somethin' really nice." He hoped he didn't hurt her feelings too badly. Dealing with children was like tap dancing around rattlesnakes sometimes, trying to give them a dose of reality without bruising their precious, innocent views of the world. Michael had seen enough so that his perceptions would always be marred by a tainted vision. He tried to shield Charlie from it, and he didn't want Shannon to learn before she needed to that the being an adult wasn't as easy as it seemed.

Shannon stared at the ring clamped between her tiny fingertips. "I just wanted to help."

"I know sweetheart." Michael gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. Until he and Fi spent time with Charlie, Michael had forgotten how good the love between a child and a parent felt. He'd been on the other side the last time he experienced it with his Mom. Then he became an adult and when he returned home, it was like a wall had been built around those days, impossible to scale. He missed out on so much, and he silently vowed that he wouldn't let that happen again.

Step one, now that they appeared to be relatively safe, was to marry Fiona. He had a plan for that, and like Shannon said, April was coming soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Fingers of sunlight reached across the sky dappled with light fluffy clouds as Sam and Jesse walked across the tarmac to the waiting jet. Each man carried an overnight bag stuffed with clothes and a few other necessities. They were hoping to make this a one-day trip, get in, get the information, and leave. But just in case, they packed for an overnight stay.

Sam had already done a lot of the groundwork over the phone. He knew where Mike had been staying, and he located the rehab center where Ruth was treated. It was just a matter of putting them together and finding out why Mike had visited Ruth, if that was in fact what he did. If he was there for other reasons, it might take awhile to determine those.

"Hey Jess, you mind taking this," Sam asked as he held his suitcase out for Jesse to take. "I need to do a pre-flight check on the plane."

"Sure, Sammy, no problem." Jesse grabbed Sam's luggage and trotted up the steps to enter the plane.

Elsa spent a nice chunk of cash on the Gulfstream jet, there was no doubt. Jesse found an open closet across from the entrance, so he stowed the luggage in it and closed the door. Then he turned right and took in the sight before him. The jet seated eight in generously padded seats upholstered in soft, fine leather. It looked more like a living room than a jet with a couple seats flanking a round table, and across the aisle were three more seats and three more were arranged in traditional rows. At the back Jesse found the typical small bathroom better suited as a closet, and across from it a galley equipped to serve hot meals. An emergency exit rounded out the end of the airplane.

He felt a thump beneath his feet, which unsettled him a bit. He heard Sam's voice, but he couldn't make out what he said. Jesse decided to pick a seat and wait for Sam to board the plane, hoping that whatever caused the sound wasn't serious.

Sam trotted up the steps, turned and responded to something the mechanic outside said. "I'll keep an eye on that when we land in Denver. If it loosens up again, I'll have it serviced before we return. Thanks a lot, Tommy!"

"Have a nice trip, Mr. Axe!"

Sam raised the stairs and closed the door before he turned to Jesse with a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about, Jesse. There's a bolt on the cargo bay that's acting up. Tommy tightened it up, so we should be fine. But I'll check it when we land and if it's loose again, it'll need some servicing."

"Hey, no problem." Jesse's hands relaxed on the armrests.

Sam laughed. "You and I have worked together long enough for me to know when you're nervous about something. Don't worry. We'll be in Denver in about three and a half hours with no problems." He headed for the cockpit, stopped, and turned back to Jesse. "Hey, you wanna sit up front with me? It's a unique view you don't normally get when you fly commercial."

"Sure. Thanks, Sam."

The two strapped in and Sam's fingers flew over switches and buttons as he prepped the plane. The man Jesse assumed was Tommy stood in front of the jet with a pair of bright orange sticks, signaling to Sam. Sam gave him a thumbs up and started the engines. Jesse watched as the man directed Sam toward the runways, ending with a flourish of the batons and a salute. Sam returned it and guided the jet away.

"That guy has way too much fun at his job," Jesse muttered.

"All those guys are like that. They're a blast." Sam concentrated on the instruments and listening to final instructions from the tower.

Jesse settled into his seat and concentrated on relaxing. He trusted Sam completely with his life, but when mechanical objects were involved, he was always concerned about an unexpected breakdown or something that would put a damper on his plans. Now that he knew Sam could read him when he was nervous, Jesse worked hard to hide his anxiety. Instead, he kept his eyes on the beautiful sunrise glinting off the high rises in the east and watched Sam navigate the jet into a lineup waiting for takeoff. It seemed surreal for the Gulfstream to be sandwiched between two 757's. The one ahead of them turned into takeoff position and revved its engines so waves of hot exhaust distorted the landscape beyond the runway, and without warning it shot forward and picked up speed before lifting in a graceful arc off the concrete.

Sam waited until the airliner was almost a dot in the sky before he took his place. He also revved the engines and Jesse could feel the power of the brakes straining against the force. A soft squeak, the brakes disengaged, and the plane barreled forward on black skid marks left by thousands of incoming planes over the years. The small jet bumped over ruts but Sam kept the pedal down and pulled back on the yoke. The moment the wheels left the runway, it felt as if an air current sucked the plane up into the sky.

The trip didn't seem to take very long once Sam set the cruising altitude and they talked about what they would do when they arrived in Denver. "So we'll get the plane down, and the ground crew will take care of prepping it for the flight out. Meanwhile, you and I will go to that hotel where Mike was staying. We'll get checked in and head out to the rehab center."

"You really think anyone there will tell us what they know about Mike's visit?" Jesse gave him a skeptical look.

"I'm hoping that we don't have to resort to a court order. Elsa gave me the number of a lawyer she knows in Denver in case we have to go that route, but I'd rather do this quiet, you know?" Sam sighed. "We've already done enough to expose Mike and Fi."

"Yeah. I wonder how they're doing."

"The thing that really sucks about this whole going into hiding is that if something bad happens, we'll probably never know." The concern and sadness in Sam's voice carried across the space between him and Jesse.

"I know what you're saying. I hope they can come home soon."

Both men fell silent, lost in their thoughts. Sam landed the plane without incident, not that Jesse expected anything would go wrong. He'd flown with Sam before and he was a good pilot. Jesse just had a thing about trusting several tons of steel and aluminum to stay aloft.

While Sam finished up with the crew, Jesse rented a car, and he drove them to the hotel where Michael stayed. It wasn't as large or as fancy as Elsa's place, but it was clean and well run. Sam and Jesse settled into their room and left again, riveted on their mission.

* * *

Sam and Jesse arrived at Serenity Ridge during a mid-morning lull. The entrance came up as Jesse took a sharp curve, surprising him with its sudden appearance. A heavy log gate crossed the narrow asphalt road, preventing anything less than a Humvee from barreling through, which he considered intriguing. A chain-link fence, almost invisible among the lush vegetation, ran to the right and left through the woods. At the top, barbed wire kept the residents in and prevented well-meaning friends from springing them on the sly. A guard in black pants and a white shirt underneath his warm unzipped jacket approached the car.

"Morning, gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?" He bent and glanced into the car to get a good look at them. In one hand he held a clipboard.

"We didn't know we needed one," Jesse replied, and he glanced at Sam.

"Ah, I see. Emergency case," the guard said with a slow nod. "Hang on." He entered a small block cabin made of real logs and from where they sat, Jesse and Sam could see him on the phone.

"Nice," Sam mumbled. "I suppose now I have to play the guy who needs help, huh?"

"Just until we get a face to face with someone who knows Ruth and her case," Jesse replied. He flashed him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, man."

"It's okay, I can deal with it."

The guard returned to the window and handed Jesse a cardboard placard. "Hang this on your rearview mirror when you get to the end of the lane. There's a parking lot up there, and the director will be waiting at the entrance for you."

"Thank you kindly, Sir." Jesse put the car in drive and when the guard opened the gate he drove through. "Man, this place is like Fort Knox, just for some addicts? It's crazy, man."

"Having known a few in my life, it's no surprise to me," Sam declared. As he watched the trees give way to wide-open, lush green lawns, he continued, "If someone is sent to rehab against their will, you know they'll try anything to get out." He turned his head and spoke directly to Jesse. "I don't think you wanna know what they do to keep people in when they're going through the initial drying out period."

Jesse shook at the pictures that ran through his imagination. "I probably don't wanna know how you know all that."

Sam released a sorrow filled sigh. "No, you don't. Ah, I see our welcoming committee at the door." He pointed toward a slim woman who wore a gray suit that fit her every curve. She wore matching pumps with a short heel, and a pink blouse that added some color to her lily white skin and light blonde hair. Her petite glasses matched her blouse. She waited with a stoic expression on her face, as if having one more patient at the facility bruised her spirit.

Jesse parked and he and Sam approached her. Their eyes moved around the parking lot, studying the green lawns equipped with a tennis court, shuffle board, and a ball diamond in the distance. Logs composed the siding on the building before them, and on closer inspection it appeared to be a real log building like the guard's booth.

"Welcome to Serenity Ridge, gentlemen. My name is Tamara Weaver. I'm the director of this facility."

"Sam Axe, and I'm Jesse Porter."

"A pleasure to meet you. Which one of you is checking in?"

"Actually, neither of us," Jesse answered.

Ms. Weaver blinked and stared at the two. "I was told…."

"The guard was wrong. He just jumped to conclusions," Sam said. "I take it you don't get many visitors up here."

"Not really. Friends and relatives usually come to drop off and pick up their loved ones. A few come back on Family Weekends, but not a lot," Ms. Weaver answered, and her eyes dulled with the thought of the residents who worked out their time alone. "I try to emphasize how important it is for the patient to have family support, and that it helps the patient adjust better to life without alcohol or drugs, but too often they don't listen." She sighed. "Then the patient often returns and starts the process all over again."

"Could we go to your office and talk," Sam asked. "We're here on behalf of Ruth Westen."

Ms. Weaver's mouth opened and she took in a soft breath. "Ruth? You're friends of hers?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Sam answered as he glanced at Jesse, who nodded. "We're concerned, and we'd like to talk to you about her."

"Certainly. Come on in to my office." She lost some of her stiffness as she waited to hear the bad news. She led them inside past a round reception desk that sat in the middle of the lobby. A recessed area near the front door served as a lounge where residents could sit and study the fish in a large aquarium that filled up one wall. A shelving unit with games and puzzles ran around two walls, topped with cushions for sitting. In the center, round tables sat half filled with residents who played games, read, or watched the flat screen television hanging from one wall. A large bank of windows covered the wall opposite the reception area.

"Looks like a nice place you've got here," Sam remarked as he watched a variety of birds flocking and flitting around a collection of bird feeders outside the window. "It's really serene."

"Thank you, Mr. Axe." Ms. Webster smiled. "We try to make it a peaceful place where the patients can detox and spend time reflecting and learning how to live life again." She ushered them into a room at the head of one of three wings that jutted out from the reception area like rays on a sun.

"How long does someone need to be in here, Ms. Weaver," Sam asked as he took a seat and Jesse took the other.

"Please, call me Tammy. The average stay is ninety days, and most court-ordered stints will be thirty or sixty, which isn't nearly enough time." Tammy rested her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. "We've had a few successes with ninety days, but that's only if the patient has a good support system on the outside and they attend regular meetings."

"Like AA," Jesse said.

"Right. Or Celebrate Recovery. That one seems to produce better results, but some people get squeamish about the faith aspects of it. Anyway, what can I do for you two?"

Sam and Jesse explained what had happened with Ruth and her downturn that came as a surprise. Tammy frowned, and the two knew that hearing about another failure hit the director hard. She cared about the people that her team tried to help. Sam hoped that she would be more agreeable to helping them if she knew how sympathetic they were to Ruth and her back sliding.

"We're not sure what we can do to help her. And I don't understand how she could crack so fast," Sam said.

"Mr. Axe, everyone reacts to their addictions and recovery in different ways." Tammy pressed her lips tight, an expression of the conflict that raged within her. "I advised Ruth that she should stay longer, but her ninety days were up, and she was overconfident."

Sam pulled out a photograph and set it on her desk. "Have you seen this man visit Ruth?"

Tammy looked at the photo of Michael, and recognition flashed in her eyes. She didn't need to say a word. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"He's Ruth's... he's a friend of her late husband Nate. His name is Michael McBride."

"I remember that name. He asked to spend some time with Ruth out on the grounds, and they were gone awhile. About the time I sent an aide to find them, Ruth came running back to the building, closed herself up in her room, and wouldn't talk to anyone for almost two days." Tammy's eyes, wet with tears, stared at them. "What did he say to her? Do you know?"

Sam shrugged and replied, "We think that maybe Michael told her that he and his wife were taking full custody of Charlie, her son."

"He would need a court order to do that," Tammy argued.

"It's complicated." Sam sighed and sat back in the comfortable chair. "Let's just leave it at that. I think she couldn't handle what he told her, and so she came to me and Jesse looking for help to find her son."

"Only we can't locate him," Jesse said. "We're afraid that's what caused her to relapse."

Tammy nodded. "Something that traumatic would certainly do it." She rose from her seat and moved to a file cabinet to remove a thick folder. She spread it on her desk and shifted pages until she reached the end. "I have the notes from Ruth's last counseling session, when she finally talked about the visitor."

"I know you've got confidentiality rules and all, but can you tell us the gist of it," Jesse asked. His eyes locked on hers and he gave her a charming smile. "Come on, Tammy. We're friends, and we just want to help Ruth."

Tammy sighed in resignation and planted her elbows on the desk. "Alright, Mr. Porter. In a nutshell, Michael told Ruth he was taking Charlie with him and he promised that Charlie would be safe and well taken care of. Michael didn't want her to worry, that Charlie would be in good hands." Tammy raised her head to focus on them. "Naturally, Ruth's idea of good hands involved her as Charlie's mother getting custody again. I would have recommended it if she'd been able to stay sober, but... honestly, I was afraid this would happen. And if a court came to me and asked, with her history of addiction and OCD, I wouldn't recommend that Charlie be given back to her."

"OCD?"

"Yes, Mr. Porter, and she could get..." Tammy stopped herself and smiled. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, I shouldn't be telling you this. It's confidential."

"We know about her... quirks," Jesse said. "Hey, everybody's got their thing. Is that crazy?"

"Ruth is not crazy," Tammy spoke soft and even in a tone that evoked images of a mother bear defending her cubs. "She has issues that need to be addressed along with her addictions. That's why a recovery program would be so good for her, but obviously she hasn't been attending one."

"She came to us in Miami looking for Charlie," Sam said. "That was a few days ago, and to me she seemed like she had it together pretty good until yesterday."

"Mr. Axe, it's a front. Unfortunately, Ruth is very good at convincing people." Tammy let out a breath and shook her head and she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. "She did so well in here and we were helping her control her other impulses, but it sounds like things are worse than I imagined."

The Richardson Tower Hotel was where Sam and Jesse were staying. Elsa knew the manager, so she helped arrange their stay. "I wonder if Mike stayed there," Jesse muttered.

"We'll find out soon enough." To Tammy, Sam said, "Is there anything else you can tell us about Ruth?"

"She needs to come back here," Tammy replied with red rimmed eyes. "She needs more time to adjust."

"And dry out again," Sam added. He told Tammy what happened at Elsa's hotel the day before, and Tammy was even more adamant that Ruth needed long term confinement and help.

"You're not suggesting she go to a... a mental institution or anything, are you?" Sam ended his question by swallowing his trepidation.

"No. We can help her here." Tammy glanced from Sam to Jesse and back. "Mr. Axe, Mr. Porter, please do what you can to bring Ruth back."

"It might not be easy," Jesse said. He sat forward in his chair and asked, "Do you think she should get custody of Charlie at some point?"

Tammy hesitated, telling the two more than her tactful words. "Maybe not now, but in the future, if she responds well to treatment... perhaps. Until then, I would recommend to any court that asked that he stay with whomever has him now. She loves that boy with her life, but she can't take care of him. She needs to focus on herself for now."

"That's pretty much what we thought. Thanks."

With heavy hearts, Sam and Jesse left Tammy's office and drove back to the hotel. They talked with Maurice, the manager, and he provided them with little information about Michael's stay. At least they knew why Michael had come, to hopefully reassure Ruth that Charlie would be taken care of. But Ruth saw it differently, so she played the part of recovering addict, left as soon as she could, and tracked down Jesse and Sam in hopes of finding Charlie.

Discouraged to learn of Ruth's condition, the two men decided to fly home that day and not stay overnight. They needed to check on Ruth and make sure she wound up in a facility that could treat her. Serenity Ridge was a nice place, but obviously they hadn't been able to do the job completely.

As soon as Sam parked the jet at the hangar, Jesse was on the phone to the hospital where Ruth was taken. Sam finished the post-landing checklist and turned to see the stormy look on Jesse's face.

"What is it? What happened?"

Hands on hips, fighting frustration, Jesse wanted to throw his phone. Instead, he slipped it into his pocket and turned to Sam. "Ruth checked herself out this afternoon."

"What? How can she do that?"

"I don't know, but she did, and God only knows where she is now," Jesse replied.

Sam pulled out his phone and hit a number on his speed dial. "Let's just hope she doesn't have a valid passport."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sam wished the Gulfstream was a fighter jet that could have gotten back to Miami in a lot less time. When the runway came into view and he lined up for landing, he realized that he hadn't been so eager to see it since his first time flying solo. He worried that every hour they were gone allowed Ruth a bigger head start if she decided to run. The sound of the wheels thudding as they hit the concrete signaled they were back in Miami, and Sam was thankful for the need to concentrate on stopping the jet and taxiing to the hangar. But the moment he and Jesse left the plane and headed for the Charger, which he left parked in the hangar, he called Elsa.

"Hey Baby, we just landed. How are things at the hotel?"

Elsa's breath hissed over the line. "I'm sorry, Sam. Ruth left sometime between the last time you called and about a half hour ago. I was going to ask her if she wanted to go to dinner, but she wasn't there. Now it's getting dark, and I'm worried about her wandering the strip. With all the bars and clubs... Sammy..."

"I know, honey. We just got in the car, and we're on our way to the hotel. We'll keep an eye out for her along the way. Did you call the police?"

"No."

"Well, do it after I hang up. Tell them that a woman who's a danger to herself and possibly others is wandering around South Beach." He stopped speaking, a new idea forming. "You know what? Jesse and I are going to stay here at the airport. We'll be at the international terminal, and if Ruth has any ideas of taking off to Ireland to track down Mike & Fi, hopefully we can stop her before she gets a ticket."

"Does she have a passport," Elsa asked.

"I have no idea, but I'm not taking that chance," Sam responded. "Call the cops, and maybe even airport security. No, wait, Jesse and I'll take care of that. Just get us some back up on the streets."

"Okay. I'm on it." Elsa hung up.

Sam and Jesse entered the international ticketing area and the first airport cop they found, they told him about Ruth. Sam had a photograph of her on his phone, and he forwarded it to the cop. He passed it on to everyone working the international terminal. Then Sam and Jesse patrolled the area, studying the travelers and hoping to find Ruth.

The evening crowds were sparse, making it easier to search. Sam could have kicked himself for being so forthright with Ruth and giving her information on the whereabouts of Mike, Fi, and Charlie. He was only trying to ease her mind. She would have no clue where to start if it hadn't been for him. He knew from her actions that her love for Charlie was deep, and she was his mother, so he didn't feel he had the right to withhold that information from her. Yet she was unstable and he should have seen it and considered that she might go out on her own to find them. He assumed she didn't have much when she first arrived, but considering that nothing about her was as it first seemed, she probably had access to funds to get her to Ireland.

"Anything, Sam," Jesse asked over the commlink and disturbed Sam's self-loathing.

"Nothing yet, Jesse." The disappointment in himself came through loud and clear in Sam's voice.

"Hey man, don't beat yourself up over this. I didn't consider her a real threat either. I mean, she comes on as this petite, weak and wounded little thing."

"Yeah." Sam's eyes focused on something ahead. "Hang on a minute. I think I see her at the IA ticket counter."

"I'll meet you there."

Sam quickened his steps and as he neared the counter he heard Ruth's voice turning shrill as she argued with the clerk behind it. She was trying to buy a ticket, but there was a snag. A few customers waited in line, checking their watches and looking disgusted at the woman.

"Ruth!" Sam stepped up and grabbed her arm. "There you are! We thought we missed you."

She gaped and tried to pull away. "What? Sam, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to find you, of course." He smiled at her and threw an embarrassed smirk at the ticket agent. "Sorry, ma'am. Ruth, come with me, we'll take you back to the hotel and we can talk about this."

"No!" She pulled out of Sam's grasp and returned her attention to the ticket agent. "I want a round trip ticket to Belfast. Now."

"I'm sorry, Miz, you can't travel without a passport," the woman with a slight Irish accent replied. "Sir, I've been tryin' to tell her that, but she won't listen. Says I'm breakin' the law not sellin' her a ticket."

Sam let out a breath, grabbed Ruth's upper arms with both hands, and forced her to step away from the ticketing area. Jesse picked up her wallet and the cash Ruth had strewn on the counter. "Come on, let's go, Ruth. If you want to go to Ireland, you'll have to get a passport and wait for it to be processed. Let's do this right, okay?"

"But Charlie needs me! Every day that he's apart from me is like hell, Sam!" She wailed her words as Sam and Jesse dragged her away from the counter with the crowd watching, shaking their heads in pity.

"Charlie is fine with Mike and Fi," Sam spoke softly. "Trust us."

Ruth twisted out of Sam's grip and backed away from them. She thrust out her hand and waggled her fingers, demanding her wallet from Jesse. He managed to stuff most of the money into it. She snatched the rest from him and stuck it inside.

Ruth turned her attention to Sam and asked, "Will you help me get a passport? Surely you have friends who can expedite things."

"Well..." He knew people in Homeland Security who could contact their connections to fast-track a passport. But this wasn't a life or death situation, and there was no way Sam would let this unstable woman near Mike's new family.

If you asked Sam, at this point he would say that Charlie was much better off with Mike and Fi. Ruth was losing it fast, and he was afraid to let her out of his sight now. He and Jesse drove her to the hotel and they arranged to take shifts watching over her. Ruth resented the constant guarding, but they did it anyway. However, they compromised and kept watch outside her room, giving her some privacy with the stipulation that they would come in now and then and check on her.

When it was Sam's watch before sunrise, Jesse told him that every time he checked, Ruth was asleep. After Jesse had gone to the penthouse to get some sleep, Sam stuck the keycard into the slot, unlocking the door, and without a sound he entered the room. To his surprise, it was empty. He checked the bathroom but she wasn't there. Then he noticed that both beds were unmade and the sheets missing.

"Dammit," Sam muttered and charged through the open sliding glass doors to the balcony.

They were six stories up. A few bedsheets tied together would not be enough for Ruth to escape, but if she fell and landed in the pool, she could get away relatively unscathed. He approached the edgs and saw the knotted sheet attached to the rail, the fabric rubbing it as whoever was on the end swung in the light breeze. He heard a sound of struggling that gave him hope.

"Jesse," Sam barked into his phone when Jesse picked up.

"What, man," Jesse mumbled. "I just got up here."

"Ruth tried to escape by tying bedsheets and shimmying down the balcony."

Jesse snapped up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is she gone?" His feet slid along the carpet in search of his shoes, and he slipped into them.

"Nope. She's just hanging around." Sam smirked.

"Help me!" Ruth's terrified cry sounded over the phone.

Jesse couldn't help smiling at Sam's pun. "I'll be right down."

* * *

Michael was, unfortunately, not a very romantic man when he was a spy. But he knew subtlety and secrecy, and with a little help he would pull off a plan to sweep Fiona off her feet. She'd been busy with Charlie, playing in the back yard until he mellowed out, and then she drew pictures with him until it was nap time. Adjusting to the schedule of a child turned out to be a challenge for Michael. Yet it was one he welcomed with open arms, because in the process he became more aware of how little time his father cared for the family and their needs. He became even more determined that Charlie wouldn't be robbed of interaction with a father figure. He didn't want his nephew to grow up like he and Nate did.

Making an excuse to go to the market to pick up some produce for the evening's meal gave Michael a good reason to get out of the house. Fiona wanted to go along but someone needed to stay with Charlie. Other than a couple of visits to her family's home, and those were done with delicacy to make sure Fi's enemies didn't catch wind of her being in her home town, the trio stuck to the house in the country. It was terribly lonely at times, but for now, necessary. Michael was the better choice for making grocery runs, because he could more easily hide his identity and not too many people remembered him from when he was last there.

He drove toward the city but pulled into a lane that led to a stone house not unlike the place where they lived. Fiona would be furious if she knew where he was going, but Michael had to do this alone. He couldn't have her butting in, because this was one mission he needed to do alone if he would ever find peace.

An icy wind blew flakes of snow from the north as he knocked on the front door. He heard someone on the other side, and then the latch clicked, the door squealed like a cranky child, and Patrick, one of Fiona's younger brothers stood in the doorway sizing him up and down.

"Michael, whatcha doin' here?" Patrick's narrowed eyes showed his distrust. Some in the family didn't take too kindly to Michael because he was an ex-spy and got Fiona into a lot of trouble over the years. Never mind that she could have done just as well on her own. She was Patrick's older sister, the only surviving sister at that, and that made her next to a saint in his eyes. "What d'ya want?"

The iciness in Patrick's voice would have convinced other men to turn and run, but he didn't know Michael's determined streak. He wouldn't let Patrick cow him. "I'm here to speak with your mother."

"Me mother? Are ye serious, or just daft? Maybe ye got too many kicks to the head in yer younger days," Patrick teased with no light in his eyes.

Michael closed his and counted to ten, quickly. He opened them again and said, "Patrick, please. I need to talk to her about Fiona." The seriousness of his tone hit the younger man, and his demeanor changed.

Patrick had questions in his eyes, but he backed up and let Michael inside. He yelled, "Ma! Michael McBride is here to see ye."

"I'm in the kitchen, Paddy. Bring him in here."

A breath of relief escaped Michael. Maggie Glenanne sounded like she was in a good mood. Maybe this wouldn't be as painful as he feared. He followed Patrick down a short hall to the back of the house. Heat and humidity hit him as if he'd just gotten off a plane in Miami, but the howling wind and pitter patter of icy flakes before they died on the steamed up windows reminded Michael that he was still in Ireland.

Maggie Glenanne stood at the gas stove minding a large pot of potatoes that skipped and bobbed in the boiling water. She pulled a fork out of one and turned, her mouth set into a thin line as she took in Michael standing in her kitchen doorway.

"Aye, Mr. McBride," she addressed him with a mocking tone. She knew his real name and only kept it quiet because her daughter's safety was at stake, and the wee one's safety as well. The first time he and Fiona set foot in her house with Charlie, he revealed the truth to her. It didn't endear him to Maggie, and perhaps alienated her even more, but at least she respected his desire to be honest going forward.

"Mrs. Glenanne," he answered with a deferential tone, and he held his hat in his hands. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He refrained from using an accent in her presence unless some of the younger children were also in the room. It wouldn't do to confuse them, or make it easier for them to spout off in innocence about the American living in their area.

"No, I was just makin' some potatoes for tonight's supper. Have a seat. 'Tis chilly out there, perhaps ye'd like some tea?"

She was in a really good mood today. Michael smiled and pulled out a chair at the table. "Thank you, Mrs. Glenanne. It is a bit nippy out there."

"I'll bet Fiona is wishin' she'd stayed in Miami with ye," Maggie mumbled as she retrieved two cups and brought them to the table. "I know she loved it there."

"It's… it's not possible for us right now." His desire to state his business boiled inside him almost to the point of bursting out. Only long-practiced discipline kept him from doing so. He waited until Mrs. Glenanne poured the hot water and seated herself across from him.

"I'm just waitin' to check the roast," she said as she dipped her tea ball in a quick, rhythmic pattern steeping her tea, indicating that she had no intention of visiting with him longer than necessary, just long enough to be polite.

Good. He would make it quick. "I want to ask Fi to marry me."

Maggie's eyes flew up from the swirling steam above her cup that was half way to her lips. "Excuse me?"

"I want to marry Fiona, Mrs. Glenanne, and since Mr. Glenanne is no longer around, I'm asking you for permission."

Maggie set down her cup on the saucer and leaned back in her chair, gathering her sweater around her thin frame. When she did that, Michael could see Fiona in her. That thought was the only thing keeping him from jumping to his feet and hurrying out of the house. He was doing this for Fiona. He adored her, and since they began their exile that had become more apparent to him. If Maggie said no, Michael was prepared to go against her wishes and marry Fiona anyway.

She stared at Michael who looked afraid she would refuse him. She liked it. In fact, she liked it so much, a smile tugged the edges of her mouth until she grinned and a bubble of laughter escaped. It snowballed into a fit that caused her eyes to water. She slapped a hand on the table edge and forced herself to calm down while Michael stared at her, unsure of how to react.

When she found her voice again, Maggie said, "'Tis about time, don't ye think, young man?" She grinned, but it was more of a slur than an approval. "Aye, tis good to see ye doin' something honorable for once when it comes to my Fiona."

Michael's body seemed to deflate with the breath that he released, and he leaned his forearms on the table. He ignored the barbs, grateful that she was agreeable. "Thank you, Mrs. Glenanne."

"Ye have me blessin', but," Maggie leaned forward and squinted at him in an intimidating manner. "I won't be takin' kindly to ye callin' me 'Ma' until after the weddin', Mr. McBride."

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of it," Michael agreed while hiding a smile behind a serious set of his lips.

"Well then, when will ye two be tyin' the knot?"

Michael allowed the smile to bloom when he answered, "I've been told that April is a good time."

"'Marry in April if you can, joy for maiden and for man. Marry in May and rue the day," Maggie recited with a hint of a smile. "Lucky we have a little time. I have plenty of work to do. When ye get home, have Fiona give me a call and we'll start the plannin'."

"I'll do that. Thank you," Michael said. "And thank you for the tea, Mrs. Glenanne."

"Oh, and I'll be expectin' ye for Sunday supper," Maggie added. "'Tis time I got to know me future son-in-law."

"We'll be here." Michael rose from the table and Patrick escorted him out the front door. As the heavy wooden panel closed behind him, Michael set his cap on his head and let out a long breath that fogged in the cold air. That went well, better than he expected. No doubt knowing that he was willing to take responsibility and marry her daughter carried a lot of weight in Maggie Glenanne's mind.

Maybe someday she would actually like him.

* * *

Sam leaned over the rail after talking with Jesse, and he met Ruth's eyes as she dangled above the large swimming pool. Her hands slipped and she screeched.

"Hang on, Ruth, I'll pull you up," Sam said.

"P-please don't let me fall," Ruth stammered, terrified.

"I won't. I promise." Sam's voice was soft and soothing even has he put all his strength into hauling up the bedsheets as quick as he could by himself. He heard a click and sensed Jesse was entering the room. "See? Help is here, Ruth. Jess, help me get her up."

He almost had her, just six feet and Sam could grab onto her hand. Jesse took hold beneath Sam's hands and pulled. With the two of them, they had enough strength to close the distance. But they jerked the sheet, startling Ruth. She screamed and lost her grip.

"Sam!" She screamed again as her hands fumbled and grappled for the fabric, but she began to slide to the knot at the end. "I'm gonna... fall!"

As she said the word, Ruth lost her hold on the sheet. At the same moment, Sam threw himself over the railing to grab her. He had enough time to wrap his arms around Ruth's body, his momentum taking them farther away from the concrete deck. Within a couple seconds they hit the water and he took the brunt of the fall as they hit bottom in the deep end. Sam found his footing and brought her sputtering and coughing to the surface.

"Are you okay, Ruth?" He asked as he swam her to the side.

Her hands clung to the edge and she turned to him, nodding. "A-are you okay, Sam?"

"Thank God for twelve foot deep swimming pools. I'll have one hell of a bruise for awhile, but I'm good." He held onto her with one hand on her back. "What were you thinking trying to climb down from the sixth story?"

Ruth looked around, her eyes wide and her eyelashes glued together with pool water. "I, uh, I guess that wasn't such a good idea, huh? Sam, please. I just want to get my Charlie back. That's all."

"I'm sorry, Ruth, but I don't think you're ready for that yet. You need to clean up, show the court you'll stay sober and responsible."

Ruth pushed him away and scrambled for the deck. "I knew it. You're just like all those other people who said I was crazy to try to get my son back. Well you know what? I don't need your help." She stood on the concrete, dripping as she went into a tirade.

"What are you talking about?" Sam pulled himself out of the water and caught up to her, pulling her back to face him. "Who discouraged you from finding Charlie?"

"My counselor. My Mom." She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. She tried so hard to sound adamant while crying, but she only succeeded in sounding pathetic. "You and your friend Jesse can just back off and... and leave me alone." She whisked the water from her body as she strode to the hotel entrance. "I'll get that passport myself and go find Charlie. I'm an adult, and I can handle this."

"Oh, brother. You can barely handle yourself right now, much less a child," Sam muttered and followed her inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"It was worse than we thought, Baby," Sam said as he walked into Elsa's office later that morning.

Elsa looked up from her paperwork, her eyes full of dread. "What do you mean?"

"Elsa, Jesse and I had to take Ruth to the hospital." Sam reported, "We did it under the disguise of getting her checked out after she and I took a dive in the pool. I asked the doctor to run some blood tests, and there were signs that she wasn't just abusing alcohol again."

"What? How did she get a hold of anything? She's been confined to her room," Elsa exclaimed as she rose and rounded the desk to stop before him. "Are you suggesting my security fell down on the job?"

"No. I don't know what to think right now, honey. I just know that Ruth is staying under observation for awhile." Sam let out a weary sigh. "I called the rehab center and talked with her counselor. He recommended that we return her to the center. She's obviously not ready to cope with real life." Sam noted the unease in Elsa's expression, and he reached for her and rubbed her upper arms as he spoke. "Trust me, this is the best thing for her for now. Maybe, by the time Mike and Fi can come back to the States, she'll be clean and can take care of Charlie. But not right now."

"I'm sorry, Sam. As a mother, I can barely imagine what she's going through." Her eyes locked onto his. "I don't know how you can even begin to sympathize."

"You're right, I can't. But I'm not thinking about her. My main concern is Charlie, and that he winds up with the best caregiver. I just think she needs a chance to be in the running." Sam took a breath to compose his thoughts. Elsa had formed some kind of bond with Ruth in the short time she was there. Perhaps it was only due to the sisterhood of mothers, but whatever the reason, he had to present the facts. That's something Elsa always understood. "I feel sorry for Ruth, but this is just the way it is right now. She has to learn that she's the one in control of her life, and only by kicking these addictions can she get her life back."

"You're right." Elsa's sigh, full of conciliation, sounded heavy in the space between them. "So, what are we going to do?"

"I talked to Jesse on the way here. When the hospital releases her, we'll fly Ruth back to Denver and check her in to Serenity Ridge. But I don't want to just dump her there and forget about her. She needs someone to care outside the facility." He gazed into Elsa's eyes. "She sees you as a friend, Elsa. We may need to make some trips out there now and then. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure, I have no problem with it. Yes, let's do it."

Ruth gained her freedom a few days later, but she wasn't completely clear. Sam picked her up from the hospital and drove her to the airport where Jesse and Elsa waited at the Gulfstream. Ruth looked around in rising panic as Sam parked the car in the hangar and escorted her to the tarmac. The hot Miami sun beat down on her, causing beads of perspiration to break out all over her skin. That and the looks on Jesse and Elsa's faces, which reminded her of the condescending mask of concern that people put on whenever she was around. Ruth stopped in her tracks, afraid to go any further.

"Where are we going," Ruth asked. Her wide eyes looked wild as she stared at him. "Where are you taking me?"

In his most calming voice, Sam responded. "Back to Serenity Ridge. You need more time there."

"No! I'm fine! I just had a little lapse, that's all!" Ruth protested and shook off Sam's hand when he reached for her elbow to guide her onto the airplane. "You people don't care about me! You just want to see Michael and Fiona keep Charlie. Yes, that's what it is! It's wrong, don't you see?" Tears rained from her eyes and she lost control, screaming, "He's mine! He belongs with me! Please don't do this!"

Elsa came forward and tried to calm her, sweeping back the locks of blonde hair that dribbled into her face and stuck to her cheeks. "Ruth, listen. Can you do something for me?"

"What? What do you want? You're just like those men," Ruth said, the word sounding evil as it forced its way between her lips.

"I thought you were a friend. Friends listen to each other." She rested her fingers beneath Ruth's chin and raised it so they were eye to eye. "You owe it to Charlie to straighten out. Until you can do that, you can't be the mom you want to be. Think about it, you ultimately own all the cards here. You get sober. You take some classes while you're at Serenity Ridge, and by the time you get out, you'll be stronger, more confident, and you'll be the kind of mom who would make Charlie, and everyone around you, proud."

Ruth sniffled and swept the hair away from her weepy eyes. "Yes. You're right. But it's so hard."

"Nothing ever worth having is easy to obtain. You'll only gain strength through this battle, Ruth."

A fresh crop of tears started, but Ruth nodded in agreement. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do this. I'll show them." She glanced at Sam and Jesse with cold eyes. "I'll show them all."

Elsa smiled and helped her to the steps. "You're making the smart choice, Ruth. And I promise you, when we find Michael and Fiona, we'll make sure that they find a way to give you progress reports on Charlie." She smiled. "Then you won't have to let fear that he's not being taken care of cloud your goals."

"Thank you, Elsa. Thanks, all of you," Ruth said as she glanced at Sam and Jesse, only this time her eyes were soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry I've been such a bother."

"You're lost, and you didn't know where to turn," Jesse said. "The rehab center is the place where you'll get the tools to find your way again."

Everyone boarded the plane, and Sam piloted it to Denver. Jesse and Elsa sat in the cabin with Ruth. She spent a good part of the journey silent, studying the clouds out the window or the photograph she kept in her hands. It was an old picture of Charlie, when he was two. He hadn't been in her custody for a long time, and before long he would no longer resemble the baby in that picture. Jesse pondered the photo he kept of his mother. It had faded until sometimes he relied more on his memory of what it held than what still remained on the paper.

Jesse lost his mother at such a young age and it affected him for the rest of his life. Fortunately, when he was placed in the foster care system, the state placed him with a good family. They loved him like their own and encouraged him to do and be whatever he wanted. They even paid for his college education out of their own pockets. They were gone now and he missed them, almost as much as his mother.

He had no doubt that Charlie would feel the same, that Mike and Fi could give him the world but he would still hold a longing, a hole in his heart, for his mother. If he could do something to help, he would. He had an idea.

Jesse, Sam, and Elsa stayed with Ruth through her check-in and were allowed to see her room. Ruth dropped the suitcase full of clothes that Elsa bought her onto the bed and glanced around the room, heaving a sigh. "Different room, different roommate. Yippee."

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, Ruth," Sam assured her. "Take advantage of the time you're here, don't fight it, and you'll be fine."

"Yeah, right." She wandered to the window and looked down at a steep drop to a rocky creek that ran through a narrow gorge. A fence prevented the residents from falling into it. There would be no escaping out the window for her.

"Hey, before we go, I want to take some pictures," Jesse said as he pulled out a small camera.

"Why?" Ruth turned toward him. "So you can remember how you left me?"

"No." Jesse grabbed her hand and led her outside. Ruth peppered him with questions, but he didn't answer. Sam and Elsa followed, puzzled.

Jesse stopped near a stand of evergreens whose boughs bore a thick blanket of new snow. "There. I want you to stand there, Ruth." He directed her to the exact location where the sunlight streaming through the trees lit her face and painted it with glowing tones. "Yeah, now smile for Charlie." He encouraged her with a toothy smile.

"For Charlie? What..."

"When we find him, we'll give him this picture so he remembers who his Mom is." Jesse spoke with such conviction, Ruth smiled, the first warm expression on her face in weeks. Jesse stepped back, lined up the shot, and captured it for a lifetime and beyond. "Oh yeah, that's beautiful."

Ruth spied herself on the screen and the tears sparkled in her eyes. "Thank you, Jesse." She hugged him. "That's an amazing picture. And you all are so amazing to do this for me." She stepped back, tangled her fingers together and bowed her head. "I don't deserve this."

Elsa came forward and took Ruth's hands. "We care about you. Get well, Ruth. Show the world that you can be a good mom, and you'll get Charlie back in your arms. I promise."

Ruth looked up at her. "Thank you, Elsa. You're... amazing." She grinned and squashed Elsa in a powerful hug. Elsa patted her back when she was ready to be let go. Sam didn't escape her clutches either, and afterwards, she stayed in the spot where Jesse took the photograph while the three walked back to the car.

"We'll keep in touch," Sam called to her.

Ruth nodded, wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled. For the first time, she had real hope and the support of people who weren't just there to sober her up. They truly cared.

* * *

Michael spent a week working on his plan. Since he and Fiona had to stay away from the city, his options for where to propose were limited. But Sean knew of a little town nearby where no one knew them, and the tavern was dark and full of shadows that would allow them to have dinner and share some quality time without interruption.

A knock sounded on the door, the code that Michael and Fiona developed so they knew if a friend stood at the door, or an enemy. Fiona answered it, since Michael was nowhere to be found. Sean stood on the flagstone step, grinning.

"Sean. This is a surprise."

"Aye. I came by to see if Charlie could come home with me. His cousins have been clamoring for him to visit." He gave her a hopeful smile. "Annie's made up a fine supper, so Charlie can stay over for that. He maybe can stay overnight, too, if yer willin' to let him."

Fiona tilted her head, puzzled by Sean's invitation. "I know we've been here awhile now, Sean, but we shouldn't be lettin' down our guard."

"It's alright, Fi," Michael said from behind her, and she whirled in her surprise. He smiled at Sean and guided Charlie, who already wore his jacket and held a small overnight bag in his hands, between himself and Fiona to meet Sean. "He'll be in good hands, and you know it. It'll be nice for Charlie to interact with some kids. This isolation isn't good for him."

"You're right. I'm just being cautious," Fiona said. She eyed him, thoughts spinning in her head. Michael had something in mind for the night, and she almost couldn't wait to see what it was.

"Speakin' of interactin', you two need a night to yourselves now and then," Sean declared with a wink. "So Charlie and I'll be headin' to my house. We'll see ye tomorrow mornin'." He took Charlie's hand and asked, "You ready to go have some fun?"

"Aye," Charlie answered with a big grin.

The adults laughed and Sean led Charlie down the lane. He lived less than a mile from Michael and Fiona, the weather was mild, and the exercise would be good for Charlie. The chances of anyone coming upon Sean and asking about the boy were slight.

Michael closed the door on the sight, and Fiona felt a tightness in her chest. She would miss Charlie, although she sensed that Michael would soon take care of that. She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest near his shoulder.

"So, you've got somethin' in mind for tonight, Mr. McBride. You're a sly one, aren't ye?" Her smile told him she liked it.

"Aye." He held up her coat for her to step into it. "We're goin' to the pub in a nearby town. Just you and I havin' dinner. Won't it be nice?"

"Very. We haven't done that in a long time." Her nerve endings tingled, because Fiona knew that this wasn't just about dinner. Hopefully Michael wouldn't be too disappointed that she was onto him. She would have to pretend to be surprised when he asked the important question. It was as plain as the nose on his face that he'd been brewing up to a proposal, and it was only a matter of time before he gained the courage to ask.

Michael was not the kind to stray from a plan unless things didn't work out, and then he was famous for taking hold of the unforeseen and using it to his advantage. Tonight, however, he was in control of the changes when he decided to do something intrepid, and some would consider it completely foolhardy and dangerous. He drove Fiona into Belfast, bypassing the little town where he planned to go, and under cover of the darkness punctuated by street lights, he drove them to the pub where they met. Parking in the back where no lights illuminated the entrance, he and Fiona slipped inside and found a booth at the back.

A lone candle brought warmth to the dark wood paneled walls that offered them privacy from the others. Over the din of a multitude of conversations and music, it would be impossible for anyone to listen to them. He had it all figured out, when he would ask. In the meantime he was careful not to drink too much or let his nervousness become too obvious with his leg bouncing under the table.

He should have known better. Fiona was aware of his every move, and she sensed the subtle vibrations on the wooden floor beneath their feet. She smiled, trying not to give away that she had him pegged. It would have been so easy to blurt out, 'Michael, why don't you just ask?!'. Pushing him would only make things worse. Instead, she ordered her meal, he ordered his, and through it all they talked about the past and the future. Mostly the future, and it included heavy doses of Charlie.

"Fi, do you ever regret that we took off so quickly with Charlie? I mean, that we didn't make other arrangements until Ruth was able to care for him before you and I hid away?"

She stopped chewing and stared at him. "Never. Do you?"

"No," Michael answered, and a warm smile crossed his lips. "I never thought I was father material, but after spending these months with Charlie and you, well…." He swallowed, the emotions getting the better of him. "Fi, I never thought I could be so happy just being a dad and having a normal, well, sort of normal, life with you."

Fiona reached across the table and caressed his right hand that rested next to his plate. "I know what you mean. I never thought I could share my life with a child. Not with my lifestyle, anyway, but now, under these circumstances, I can see how it suits both of us. I just worry that we're foolin' ourselves, playin' house with a boy who isn't ours."

"I don't want to just play house, Fi. I want it all, for real." Michael turned his hand and clasped hers. While he spoke, he rooted in his jacket pocket for the tiny box, hoping his voice would distract her. He wasn't quite ready to do this, but sometimes when the moment comes and everything is perfect, a pre-emptive strike is necessary. If he didn't make his move, Fiona would, and he wanted to be the one to ask her.

"Aye, I feel the same."

"Good. Then, Fiona Glenanne, would you mind me askin' ye a question?" He set the open box on the table between them while he held onto her left hand. "Would ye honor me by bein' my wife?"

Fiona let out a breath and chuckled as she shook her head. "I thought ye'd never ask, ye crazy man." She pulled her hand from his and held her fingers out. "I'd be just as crazy to say no. Yes, Michael, I want to spend the rest of my life with ye as your wife."

Michael hadn't felt this excited since he was a young boy. He used both hands to pull the ring from the box, and at first it didn't want to budge. He pulled harder and it came out with force, and in the same moment it slipped out of his grasp between his thumb and forefinger. With wide open mouths Fiona and Michael watched it fly sideways, hit the paneled wall, and bounce back to drop into Fiona's shepherd's pie.

"Oh. Oh my," Fiona choked back a laugh as she stared at the spot where the jewelry buried itself.

"I'll get it," Michael stammered. His perfect proposal had just gone south, and he was thankful for the low light to hide the blush that crept up his cheeks. He felt as if they'd been magically transported to Miami in the middle of August. But no, they were still in the pub, studying a pile of mashed potatoes.

Michael stuck his fork into the white fluffy mound and he moved it around, searching for the ring. Fiona snickered and hid a smirk behind her hand, the hand that should have been wearing the tiny gold claddagh ring. He grumbled under his breath and the tines clicked against something. He hooked the ring and pulled it from the mashed potatoes, focusing on it hanging in the air between them. Fiona snatched it off the fork, wiped it in her napkin, and handed it back to him with a wink.

"Now, where were we?" He smiled and slipped the ring on her finger. Fortunately, it fit. He was afraid it wouldn't and if it was too big, he would have to apply some duct tape or something until it could be resized. Sean gave him the ring and said it had been passed down in the Glenanne family for generations. Michael would have preferred something more extravagant, but the fact that it was an heirloom no doubt would appeal to Fiona. When they returned to the States, he vowed to buy her something bigger and flashier.

"I know this ring," Fiona said as she examined it on her finger, her thumb roving over the details worn down by many years of use. "'Twas my Ma's."

"Yes, it was. And now it's yours." Michael smiled.

Fiona leaned over the table, mindful of the food cooling on their plates, and she kissed him. It reminded him of the time he was in prison trying to help a friend of Sam's, and Fiona passed him a key during her visit with him. Only this time there was no key, just the love that flowed between them.

As soon as Fiona released him and sat back in her side of the booth, Michael called the server. "Check, please!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

A few weeks had passed and things were getting back to normal in Miami, or at least as normal as they could be without Michael and Fiona around. Jesse and Sam were taking more cases and helping people, the way it should have been for a long time. Sam and Elsa kept in touch with Ruth, and she was making slow progress.

In a conference call with Elsa, and Ruth's counselor on the other side, Sam asked, "What's your opinion on Ruth's stability? I mean, after she completes her rehab, do you think she'll be able to take custody of Charlie?"

The counselor, whose name was Rob, hesitated.

"Come on, Robbie, I need to know if we should be making an honest effort to find Charlie. Just between you, me, and Elsa here, if she isn't ready, I'm not going to try to look for him."

Rob sighed, his breath hissing over the line. "Sam, I'm not sure Ruth will be ready for that for a long time. She has other issues besides addiction. When she gets out, I recommend she not just keep up with a program, but she should also see a counselor to deal with the things that cause her anxiety. She's neurotic, Sam, and the way she is now... I'm sorry. Ruth is a nice woman when you get to know her, but..."

"I get it."

"So you have no idea where Charlie is?"

Sam replied with a frown. "I'm afraid not. We have some clues, but nothing firm. It would take a lot of time and money to find him, and I wanna make sure that's the right thing to do before we take that leap."

"I understand. Maybe in six months, reassess the situation," Rob offered. "When Ruth is released, if you have contact with her, don't promise her anything. Just say you're working on it. And figure out a way to say it so she doesn't think you're lying. She's good at picking up on that."

"Thanks for the advice, Rob. We'll see what we can do." He ended the call and leaned back in the leather chair in the small hotel conference room as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know how I got myself in the middle of this."

"I do." Elsa stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. "You know what your problem is, Sammy? Sometimes you care too much." She kissed his cheek. "But that's what I love about you."

Sam had work to do, but he let Elsa's touch and her kisses turn him into an unmovable mass. She came around the chair and settled herself on his lap, her mouth found his, and her lips worked him over until every nerve ending tingled.

"I sure hope you locked the door," Sam said, almost out of breath, when she parted from him.

"Of course." The sly smile on Elsa's face would keep him going all day in anticipation for more that night. "I'd love to hang around for the after-party, but I've got a meeting at two."

"Yeah." Sam stood and kept his eyes on her rearranging her clothes as he did the same. When she stilled, he pulled her to him and kissed her deep and tender. "I'll see you later, Baby."

She whispered, "Good luck on the case."

"It's almost wrapped up. We'll celebrate tonight." One more peck on the lips, and he turned toward the conference room door. With one hand he straightened his hair so he was presentable again. He had a client to talk to. It wouldn't do to look like he'd just gotten out of bed.

Sam walked across the lobby and heard someone calling after him. "Mr. Axe! Mr. Axe!"

"Yes?" He turned and met one of the front desk clerks as she skidded to a stop on the polished tile floor.

"Sorry to bother you, Sir, but this arrived for you this morning by FedEx." She handed him an envelope the size of a sheet of paper.

"Thanks." He took the envelope and continued on his way to Carlito's, where he was about to meet Jesse and their client.

Sam took a quick glance at the outside of the envelope and noticed that it came from France. He didn't know anybody in France, at least as far as he was aware. As he stepped up the street, he tore the seal across the top and parted the sides. In the bottom, wedged into the corner, sat a plain white envelope. He plucked it out and froze in place, causing a tourist to run into him.

"Hey!"

"Uh, sorry, man," Sam muttered, still staring at the handwriting. A lump formed in his throat and he blinked. Sam tucked the mailing envelope under his arm and ripped open the white envelope that had his name on it.

His fingers twitched with excitement as he pulled out the folded heavyweight paper inside. It looked like an invitation with a gold filigree design of two hands holding a heart capped by a crown. A gold rectangle framed the design. He unfolded it and found the words handwritten in a neat, fancy script.

_Michael Aiden McBride_

_and_

_Fiona Margaret Glenanne_

_announce their intent to_

_marry_

_thee months' hence_

_on_

_April 4, 2014_

_2 o'clock p.m._

_at an undisclosed location_

Before Sam could be disappointed, he glanced at another handwritten note, only this one was less formal at the bottom of the page.

_Sam, I can't do this without you. Please meet Sean at the intersection of Old Military and Kanakee at noon. He will bring you to our location. We're all doing well. Charlie misses his Mom and Grandma, but he's adjusting. So are we. Hope to see you soon, Brother._

_Michael_

"I'll be there, Brother," Sam muttered as he stuffed the announcement into the small envelope and tucked it into the shipping envelope. He glanced at the return address again. His French was rusty, but the name stamped at the top looked like a mailing service. He smiled. In his exile, Mike was still careful even in his need to connect with those he loved for the most important day of his life. He didn't mention in which country the intersection could be found, but Sam had no doubt he and Jesse would find it in Ireland.

In the meantime, he was running late for his appointment, so Sam picked up the pace and went on his way with the envelope gripped in his hand and tucked under his arm. He couldn't wait to share this with Jesse.

* * *

_Now that episode 8.01 is finished, I hope that other authors will volunteer and create future episodes._


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